


that esculent macabre

by strongbut



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Stream (Critical Role), Requited Unrequited Love, Self-indulgent smoosh, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-03 06:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14563335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strongbut/pseuds/strongbut
Summary: Vax and Percy get the man flu. Keyleth is bad at nursing and worse at cooking. Kissing happens, but only after a lot of complaining.





	1. Chapter 1

There’s good money waiting for them, enough to silence Scanlan’s usual whining about how he’s far too old to sleep outdoors, that at this rate his back will collapse on itself and he’ll be even shorter, etc. etc. None of them really enjoy camping when it comes down to it, except maybe Vex, but even Vex has grown used to reliably hot bath-water. She is becoming soft, she says with a grimace, shaking snow from her hair. They all are. Heroism has gone to their heads. They need this job to toughen them up again, ease them back into the hard life of a traveling adventurer. Look what happens after a just a few weeks of complacency, a few weeks of hopping from inn to inn, eating rich meals, losing muscle. This is why we don’t take vacations, _Scanlan._ This is why we need this job.  

And of course, there’s the money.

Even Percy, who is usually unimpressed with such things, admits that it is a lot of money. A suspicious amount of money, even for a hag. Something about the way their employer tapped the tips of her fingers together was funny, almost nervous-making. Percy says nothing. He is not yet comfortable enough with his new companions to say: “That woman made my stomach clench and I don’t know why. But every particle in my body says that this is a bad idea.” He gives his opinion when asked for, if said opinion can be backed up with hard facts. His current anxieties have no grounding, so he pushes them away and hopes that they don’t die. He likes these people very much, odd as they are, and he would prefer them not to die. 

Snow begins to fall almost immediately after they set out, at first gentle and almost festive, then harsh and icy. If Percy believed in omens (he most certainly does not), he would call this an ill one. The day inches forward and snow begins to catch between their socks and shoes and it becomes harder and harder to see the trail.

They camp early and Vex gives her speech about how complacent they’ve all become. Grog passes around his flask and Keyleth attempts a new recipe for carrot stew. She lets Percy taste it halfway through, a little nudging of reciprocated affection. She is like a skittish animal. The more Percy tries to befriend her, the farther away she runs. When he gives up and begins to turn away, she follows behind him. Percy appreciates her kindness and gags on the stew.

“Too much salt?” Keyleth asks, thumping him on the back.

“Not enough,” Percy chokes.

The final result is still awful but hot, which is all anybody cares about. Vex bustles around tying pine branches together in a makeshift lean-to. It is a surprisingly sturdy shelter, especially with bits of their tent used for reinforcement. Scanlan lays a thick goose-feather comforter on the ground and they huddle in a semi-circle, each cocooned in their respective bedrolls. Vex sets some bricks on the fire and, when they are steaming warm, wraps them in old rags and sets one at each of their feet. Percy is surprised and grateful at how quickly the enclosed space warms up. Just as Vex predicted, his tired muscles are aching and he makes a mental note that he really does need to exercise more during their downtime. Vax sneezes repeatedly and Percy lends him a handkerchief.

They sleep fitfully.

In the morning, when Percy stumbles out of the lean-to to piss, still bleary-eyed, he finds himself falling face-first into the snow. It’s collected nearly up to his knees. Vex, face red and chapped, is already awake and poking at the remains of their campfire. 

“It will have begun to melt by the afternoon,” she says harshly, her mouth drawn and her hands shaking. “We’ll press on at noon.”

By noon they are running low on dry firewood, everyone is grumpy, Vax’s developed a wracking cough, and the snow has not melted an inch. Keyleth spends much of the downtime trying to reinforce their shelter by manipulating living tree branches, though her grasp on the spell is shaky at best and the trees surrounding them are rough, grizzled old things that seem to not want to be crafted. Grog’s urine burns a sizable hole in the snow. Everyone bickers. Vax is very pale.

Percy is physically miserable, cold, stiff, stomach cramping from Keyleth’s carrot stew, but oddly unbothered. He distantly remembers his mother’s lectures about the dangers of getting lost in the woods during a blizzard. Children not infrequently froze to death in similar circumstances and as a child he’d assumed it was an ever-present threat, that one would be walking to morning service at the Dawnfather’s temple and suddenly find oneself buried in an avalanche. It was scary. As an adult, he considers the possibility and concludes that of all the ways to die, hypothermia might even be preferable. Better than being stabbed or shot or hanged, at least. Mother said it was like falling asleep. That doesn’t sound so bad. Obviously he prefers not to die if he can help it, but it calms him to imagine it.

There are some very serious conversations and they decide to wait another day. Surely the sun will come out and the snow will melt. Vex is confident, or trying very hard to be. Percy can tell that she’s feeling guilty for leading them out into a blizzard; she fusses over their supper and urges second helpings on everyone, and every time Vax coughs, she tenses slightly. Vax really doesn’t look well. Nobody is mentioning it, but they also don’t argue when Vex begins to wonder if maybe the money isn’t worth all this trouble after all, if really the best course of action is turning back and waiting for the snow to melt.

They have fought beholders and manticores and they are being bested by a particularly brutal winter.

Late in the second night, Percy awakens to nervous whispers. He sits up and blinks at the darkness.

“Percy?” Vex says.

“What’s going on?” he says.

“Feel Vax’s forehead.”

Percy holds out his hand, palm facing outwards, and waits. Within a few moments, skin presses against the pads of his fingers. It’s warm, with that odd dampness that accompanies a fever. He can hear Vax sniffle.

“He has a temperature, doesn’t he?”

Percy nods and, because nodding into the darkness feels odd, makes an affirmative noise in this throat.

“This _fucking_ blizzard,” Vex mutters.

“Cold doesn’t cause illness,” Percy says. He knows he’s being pedantic but it feels good to say something, even something so thoroughly un-useful. “Vax must have been sick before we left, though I’m sure the cold hasn’t helped any.”

“Shut up,” says Vax. His voice is gravelly and very low.

“Can’t Keyleth cure him?”

“She’s tapped after that stupid tree-crafting,” Vex says. “I wish Pike were here.”

The three of them reflect on that thought for a long time.

Vex’s voice breaks the silence. “If Keyleth does her Minxie-cat-thing, she can take you back to Kymal. I’ll go on and finish this job, get the money, and get a doctor.”

“I’ll go with you,” Percy says, and he thinks he can almost hear Vex’s shoulders relax slightly.

“Thank you. I’m not… You’re good at this sort of thing.” Her voice quakes slightly and he wishes he could see enough to reach out and touch her shoulder. Or something. He isn’t good at comfort.

“I’m better at shooting things than nursing,” he says. It makes him vaguely uncomfortable to just be around Vax right now, like someone’s shoved a baby into his arms. He’s never been good with children. Maybe once he was, but that was his family so it doesn’t count. He’s not good with children and sick people who aren’t his siblings. Weren’t. Tenses get all mixed up with his family, even almost four years later.

“I don’t need nursing,” Vax says in an admirable show of annoyance for someone with a clearly stuffed-up nose.

“Shut up,” Vex says. “Go back to sleep, both of you.”

They obey, and Percy drifts off feeling much better. He’d been anxious without realizing it, but now things are _settled,_ and a plan has been decided. He relaxes and falls in a deep, dreamless sleep.

He awakes to the sound of someone coughing and it takes a few moments to realize that it’s him. He’s doubled over on his side, hacking up an extraordinary amount of mucus onto his bedroll.

“Another one bites the dust,” Scanlan says in a sing-song voice that makes Percy’s head hurt. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and flops backward onto his pillow.

“I’m fine,” he says at no one in particular. “It’s just a cough.”

“Oh Perce,” Keyleth says sadly. “Looks like you’re with us.”

“Darling, what if you go into a coughing fit in battle?” Vex says. “It’s not worth the risk. You can look after Vax, alright?” She leans over and ruffles his hair and Percy, a little dizzy, feels all the blood rush to his face. He has a sudden urge to slam his head against the ground. He was going to be useful and now he’s another burden. Stupid. _Stupid._

“It was one cough,” Percy says weakly. “That doesn’t prove anything." 

“You sounded like a cat coughing up a hairball,” Scanlan says.

“Don’t be a man-baby about this,” Keyleth mutters, her face immediately turning a dark maroon that contrasts horribly with her hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that! I don’t know why I said that!”

She looks genuinely guilt-stricken and Percy can’t find it in himself to argue with her. A vague, distant part of his brain not currently drowning in phlegm wonders absently if his lack of desire to needle Keyleth counts as another symptom of whatever-this-plague-is. He _loves_ bickering with Keyleth. It reminds him a bit of—

If he’s willingly remembering his family, he’s definitely sick.

“I was being a man-baby,” he concedes. “I’m sorry.”

Scanlan elbows Grog and cries out, in an exaggerated whisper: “Someone get a cleric, Percy needs last rites. He’s actually _apologizing._ ”

“I hope the golem eats you both,” Percy says, resisting the childish urge to stick his tongue out.

“Can they do that?” Grog asks, horrified.

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me with them,” Vex cries. “I trusted you Percival, and you had to go and sicken on me." 

Percy knows she’s joking and still feels guilt bubble in his gut. Either it’s guilt or he’s going to vomit. Regardless, it’s an unpleasant feeling.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, trying to imbue his voice with poncy-noble-assurance. It doesn’t work. Vex’s smile falters and she glances behind her at Vax, wrapped in blankets and shivering miserably against Trinket. She looks around, takes in Grog and Scanlan good-naturedly ribbing each other, Keyleth helping Vax roll up his bedroll, and leans closer.

“I’m not worried about the golem, darling.” It’s almost a whisper, and Percy can feel her hot breath on his face. He tries to exhales through his nose. His breath must absolutely reek right now. 

“If he gets any worse, I’ll make sure Keyleth gets in touch with Pike. Pike will know what to do,” he says. Vex nods and, reaches out to smooth back his hair from his forehead. Her hand is very cold. This is, he thinks absently, a significant gesture that represents a real turning point in their relationship and when his head is not longer spinning, he will dissect it further.

“Thank you. You take care of yourself too, alright? Go find an herbalist and buy some dried meadowsweet and yarrow. Shouldn’t be more than a few copper. Take a spoonful of each and brew them into a tea. It’ll help.” She rummages in her leathers and when Percy sees a glint of coin, he reaches out and pulls her hand away.

“It’s fine. It’s only a few copper, right?”

She blinks and then smiles, slowly and slightly unsure. “You’re a dear, you know that? But no, this is for the inn. We only have enough for one room for now, but I’ll be back soon with more.”

“We’ll be fine,” he says, taking the coins from her hands and stuffing them in his waistcoat pocket. They feel heavy and cold against his chest.

“You better be,” Vex says, drawing back and smirking. The gentleness is all gone from her voice. “If anything happens to Vax, I’ll murder you and Keyleth both.”

 

* * *

 

Even with Minxie’s help, it takes a few hours to make it back to Kymal. Percy is proud that he only vomits twice, and both times manages to aim off to the side of the road. He feels wretched, and finds himself almost curiously enjoying the sensation. He hasn’t been truly ill in years. He’s been tortured, starved, beaten, nearly drowned… But an ordinary bout of influenza? He must have been thirteen or so the last time; he remembers his older sister sneaking him chocolate eclairs when he complained that he was tired of bone broth.

It’s almost nostalgic. Blowing his nose every few seconds and feeling stiff and shivery is so mundane, so terribly normal. He’d forgotten that discomfort existed that wasn’t mind-rippingly horrid. He lets the feelings overtake him and falls into a fitful sleep pressed against Minxie’s back, only waking up to stagger into the inn, throw some money on the counter, and, once given a room, collapse onto the bed.

“Mmmph,” he says into the pillow.

“You should eat something. Shouldn’t you? I think you should both eat something,” Keyleth says. He can hear her pacing. On the other side of the bed Vax makes a wheezing noise that seems to roughly translate to “yes, I am quite hungry.”

“What do you want? Soup? Something soft, definitely. Potatoes?" 

Percy rolls onto his back and watches Keyleth gesticulate at the fireplace.

“Vex said to get meadowsweet and yarrow for a tea. Also I’d like something sweet,” he says. He realizes that he’s wearing his boots in bed. He shouldn’t do that, the sheets will get all dirty and wet. It is with a massive effort that he heaves himself up and begins pulling off his boots. 

“I don’t think sweets are good for you when you’re sick. Maybe chicken? Aren’t sick people supposed to have chicken?” Keyleth sighs and wanders over to the bed, frowning. After some internal deliberation, she reaches over and began tugging Percy’s coat off. He could kiss her for it.

By the time Percy is comfortably lying down in bed, stripped of his outer layers and wearing dry socks, they’ve decided that yes, chicken seems like the sort of thing they ought to acquire. Keyleth is combing back Vax’s hair with her fingers with an expression of such affection that Percy feels like he’s intruding on something private. He pulls off his glasses and folds them neatly on the bedside table.

“I wish I’d asked my father about his onion soup before I left. He makes the best onion soup and it’s perfect when you’re not feeling well,” Keyleth sighs.

“Please don’t cook for us,” Vax moans. “You’ll kill us.”

“Shut up,” Keyleth mumbles, but Percy can hear her sit up and begin gathering her things. “I’m going shopping, okay? This is your last chance to make any requests.”

“Eclairs,” Percy croaks.

“God, shut _up_ ,” Vax says.

The door shuts. Vax sneezes, which makes Percy sneeze. Then they lie as still as they can. It feels unspeakably quiet.

Vax rolls onto his side, his back facing Percy. He’s not wearing a shirt. _Huh_. Percy hadn’t noticed that before. Makes sense. Probably more comfortable, too. A few moments pass.

“Sorry I got you sick,” Vax says, in a tone of voice that implies that he’s actually not sorry at all, that it brings him joy to know that Percy is suffering, and that if he could increase Percy’s suffering by sheer force of will, he would happily do so.

“‘S not your fault,” Percy responds, slightly taken aback.

“Do you think they’re alright?”

It takes Percy some time to reason out who Vax is talking about. “Of course they’re alright,” he says, because he really can’t imagine otherwise. They’re idiots, but they’re good in a fight.

“I can’t believe we’re out of commission over something so _stupid,_ ” Vax says. The muscles in his back visibly tense and Percy wants, impossibly, to reach out and touch them. Instead he puts the back of his hand up against his forehead. As expected, he’s very warm.

“I think I have a fever,” Percy says miserably. 

In response, Vax rolls over and shoves his hand against Percy’s face.

“Ow,” says Percy.

“You have a fever,” says Vax. It takes him a few moments to move his hand away and when he does, it’s with an almost aggressive force.

 “Go to sleep Freddy,” he mumbles, curling to his side and sneezing into his pillowcase. Percy, a little taken aback by the interaction, nevertheless finds Vax’s advice sound and does as he is told.

  



	2. Chapter 2

Percy awakens to a sour taste in his mouth and a head blessedly free of throbbing. He blinks experimentally, half expecting to be struck down for his hubris. The light from the fire does hurt a little bit, but it isn’t agonizing. All in all, he feels better than he has for quite a while. 

Still, he’s enjoying the rare chance to laze in bed, and takes his time working up the energy to feel around the bedside table for his glasses and prop himself up on an elbow to survey the room. Keyleth is gone, however there’s a cauldron of something on the fire that smells absolutely wonderful. It’s dark and quiet and if Percy weren’t starving, he might happily fall back asleep. 

He is starving though, absolutely ravenous like he hasn’t felt in ages and ages. He slowly lowers himself out of bed and feels a burst of dizziness that leaves almost as soon as it comes.  _ If only Keyleth were here. _ It feels a little humiliating to admit how much he misses her presence and only a little bit because he doesn’t want to walk across the room and fetch himself supper. There’s something about feeling lightheaded that makes him want her nearby. Besides, he might fall and split his head open; she really ought to be there in case he or Vax gets worse.

This is when, slightly uneasy at his lapse in memory, Percy remembers that Vax is also ill. He turns back to the bed and sure enough, there’s a Vax-sized lump curled off to the side.

“Vax,” Percy whispers at the lump. It groans. 

“Would you like some supper?” Another groan, this one slightly scratchier.

The part of Percy’s head that is still very feverish and is very, very hungry immediately thinks:  _ well, more for me.  _ His civilized side wins out and he grabs two pewter bowls from the side-table and ladles two servings out. It’s rice and chicken soup and looks like the most delicious thing he’s ever seen in his life and again, he wants Keyleth there because gods only know what she had to do to get a masterpiece of a meal delivered to their room and she deserves to be thanked on bended knee.

Percy is halfway back to the bed when Vax finally speaks, in a low whine that sounds oddly childish. “If you bring that shit any closer, I will vomit on you.”

It is not a particularly large room but Percy can feel his head begin to spin a little from the exertion of getting up and getting the soup. He very much wants to curl up in bed with his bowl and eat until he can’t eat another bite and then fall back asleep, all full and warm. And again, his civilized side wins out even as his animal brain screams bloody murder. He plops down onto the braided rug in front of the fire and begins to eat. After all, he does not want to get vomited on.

The soup doesn’t taste nearly as good as it smells but it’s still alright, good enough that Percy finishes his bowl and Vax’s too. Then he spends a long time staring at the fire before pulling himself up and throwing another log on. His headache is coming back, just a little at the temple. He’s also begun to feel very cold all over. Why did he ever leave the bed? _ Right, _ because he was hungry. He can’t imagine how he had ever been so hungry. If anything, right now his stomach feels distinctly unsettled. He crawls back into bed, only to find that it isn’t nearly as comfortable as he remembered. Very lumpy mattress, very scratchy sheets. 

“Stop it,” Vax says.

“What?” says Percy, who is starting to feel slightly hysterical. 

“Tossing and turning. Stop it.”

Percy tries very, very hard to lie still and lasts about four minutes and twelve seconds before rearranging the pillow and trying to somehow twist himself into a position that won’t put undue pressure on his now very sore head. 

“Percival, I swear. I will murder you and no jury would convict me.”

“I can’t get comfortable,” Percy says, and has just enough self-awareness left to know that he sounds like a whiny man-baby. He does not have enough self-awareness to shut up and lie still. “Where’s Keyleth? I thought she was getting medicine.”

Vax rolls over to face Percy and makes a face like a man about to go into battle. With a wild jerk,  he maneuvers himself on top of Percy’s check and uses his hips to hold them both in place. Percy’s reflexes are not quite up to par and he submits to this indignity with a sneeze. It feels good. Later he can try to work out the particulars of what the feeling means and why it is so singularly effective at calming him, but in the moment he can only register a gentle:  _ oh.  _ Oh. 

It feels very good to have Vax’s nose in his collarbone. 

“Now shut it,” Vax says. Percy makes an involuntary humming noise and tries to resist the urge to kiss the top of Vax’s head. It just feels like the Thing to Do. The natural conclusion. He falls asleep again before he decides whether or not Vax would think it impertinent. 

This time he wakes up to a sensation that he imagines is roughly equivalent to having one’s skull hammered by an orc with an orc-sized hammer. He shifts slightly under Vax and feels Vax shift on top of him. 

“Shhh Freddy, go back to sleep.” Vax sounds freakishly tender and Percy is forced to consider the possibility that he’s hallucinating, which seems quite plausible when he feels cold hands reach up with smooth all the hair back from his forehead and a pair of slightly-scratchy lips press against his temple. It feels so nice that he could cry. He doesn’t question the very nice hallucination, only wraps himself tighter around Vax and tries to will himself back to sleep.

He feels something behind his head and tries to wiggle away.

“Come on, before I spill it on you.”

That’s Vax’s voice but Vax is on top of him, not to the side of the bed. Percy touches where Vax should be and only feels his own chest. There’s something bitter and hot against his tongue and he coughs as he swallows. There’s the hand on his forehead again. It’s so nice and cool, which is funny because the rest of him is cold. How odd. 

And then Vesper is watching him, eyes still in her skull this time and he wants to ask how she got them back and how her gown is so clean after the last time he saw her. His mouth is dry and won’t open or form words properly but Vesper seems to understand and just smiles, as if that explains how she washed the blood out of her gown and put the eyes back in her head. “Oh dear,” she says. “Vex won’t be happy. Oh dear, oh dear. How long has he been like this?”

“Vesper,” he says, proud to finally place the sounds in the right order. “Tell Mother that I didn’t get lost in the snow like she said.”

“He’s scaring me,” Vesper responds. “Oh Percy. Oh dear.” 

And then she changes; she makes a face, the face she makes when she’s behind schedule or Cassandra misbehaves, where the wrinkles on the side of her mouth become more pronounced and she crosses her arms even though she knows that a lady  _ never  _ crosses her arms. “Percival, you’re frightening your friends. You have to wake up now.”

And then it’s dark again.

And then it’s very light and soft and there’s a smell of something flowery… Roses? He doesn’t remember what roses smell like or how their smell differs from that of other flowers, but he settles on roses as a possible source. 

“Percy? Can you open your eyes for me?” 

The voice is soft and cheerful and he unthinkingly obeys. Just as before, the world spins and blurs, but then it settles and even without his glasses, he can make out a few familiar shapes. Pike, pink-faced and holding one tiny hand over his chest. Vex behind her, red all over her leather armour. That reminds him of the golem.

“Did you kill it?”

Vex bursts into slightly-hysterical laughter. Pike frowns.

“You need to rest. It’s not a magic cure. I mean, it is magic, but it won’t fix everything.”

Still groggy, Percy takes some time to consider this and, as he puts the pieces together, feels something like shame in the pit of his stomach. “You had to heal me?” 

“And Vax,” says Keyleth’s voice somewhere to his left. “I don’t know where you two picked up that virus but we’ve already started bleaching everything you’ve touched, like ever.” 

“And the golem?” 

Vex comes closer and he sees the red is just a towel perched on her shoulders, collecting bits of snow off her hair. He reaches out to touch it just to be sure. Vex smiles obligingly and takes his hand in hers. “Keyleth said you and Vax were in rough shape and besides, we couldn’t go off on an adventure without you. The golem can wait.” 

Guilt and disappointment overpower him and without meaning to, he squeezes Vex’s hand.  _ Stupid, stupid. Useless. A burden, dead weight.  _ The battering reaches a peak and then... The bad feelings pass and he feels, tiny and fragile as it may be, a sense of profound warmth. He had forgotten how pleasant it feels to be cared for. 

“And Vax is alright?” Keyleth has taken Vax’s spot on the bed and from what he make out, they’re alone in the room. Vax could be hiding, Percy supposes. Vax is very good at hiding, after all. 

“He’s resting too, and he’s fine. He’ll be pleased to hear that you’re better,” Pike says, and though Percy privately doubts this, he’s happy to entertain the thought that his health could ever please Vax, that anything he ever does will ever please Vax. 

“You two were very sweet together,” Keyleth says. She reaches over to find Percy’s glasses and awkwardly prop them on his nose. The world comes in focus. 

“Thank you,” he says.

Keyleth continues, undeterred. “I never really got the idea that you were into spooning? That was what made me think there was something really wrong with you guys, I mean.” 

_ Oh.  _ He’d forgotten about that. Vex snorts but gently punches Keyleth’s shoulder. “Leave him alone, alright?” 

“But there’s nothing wrong with cuddling! Especially when you aren’t feeling well! Don’t take that the wrong way, I mean, if you ever want to spoon with me, I would be honored, really.” 

Poor Keyleth has worked herself up and Percy, tired and happy, extends his arm for her to curl up against his side. She takes a moment to figure out what the gesture means and then, the tips of her ears turning pink, happily arranges herself around him. 

“He’s not contagious, is he?” Vex asks, laughing, and Pike shrugs and laughs, and Keyleth laughs and kisses at Percy’s cheek. 

“This is ridiculous,” Percy says, because he feels he has to maintain some semblance of dignity even while his insides feel all gooey, in a happy way and not a nauseous way. Nobody pays him any mind.

 

* * *

 

It’s days before he gets a moment alone with Vax. They’re sitting around a table at another terrible tavern, waiting for the rest of the gang to find drinks and food. Vax is still a little pale.  Except for a funny lingering tiredness and a slight twinge in his back, Percy feels fine. He walked ten miles that morning, tracking the golem that still eludes them. 

“You look better,” he tells Vax, because it’s true. Vax, carving an obscene doodle into the table with a dagger, looks slightly surprised at the sort-of compliment, then relaxes.

“You do too. You really scared me there for a second,” he says. 

“Well, I’m sorry. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Vax drops the dagger onto the table. A muscle in his mouth twitches and for a moment, Percy thinks he’s going to punch him. Instead Vax leans over and kisses Percy on the mouth. 

It tastes like cheap ale, and Percy is terrified to kiss back or not kiss back because both options imply a sort of desire. 

They pull apart. Percy’s mouth throbs.

“I don’t mind taking care of you, you idiot,” Vax says. There is no affection in his voice, but his cheeks are very red. Percy nods and tries very hard to think of something clever to say.

“I won’t pretend to enjoy being taken care of, but I appreciate it.”

Then Grog appears, carrying a meat pie and five flagons of ale, and when Percy glances at Vax again, he’s engrossed in conversation with Scanlan, laughing and crumbling bits of pie crust between his fingers. The moment is over, and Percy suddenly feels as though his heart is going to break. It passes, and when Vax turns to give him a similar look of longing, he's too busy arguing with Keyleth to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i uh, did not mean for this to get so sad but c'est la vie i guess. many thanks to all who have commented and kudos'ed and joined me on this journey in sappiness.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from that one song that's in the sawbones opening. everybody listen to sawbones. many thanks to my friend jamie who not only edited this but gave invaluable insight into how snow works, which you'd figure i'd know after 10 years of living in the northeastern united states. 
> 
> comments very appreciated! please nobody yell at me about spell slots and cure wounds. i know they could just magic it away but this is self-indulgent gdi.


End file.
